


Imperfect Symmetry

by ivanattempts



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bonded!Spones, M/M, spones - Freeform, this hurts and i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 14:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanattempts/pseuds/ivanattempts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even stars burn out eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imperfect Symmetry

"Honor? You're out of your..." The voice falters, but resumes as if there was no interruption - Spock doesn't miss it, but doesn't comment, either. "...damn Vulcan mind if you think there's anything honorable in this."

He does not want to argue with him, not right now - he is tired, and so is the good doctor, and if this must happen, he wishes, in this one instance, for there to be a lack of symmetry in things. He does not want this to end in the same manner it began, with biting words and impatient looks, but the man on the bed is offering them both, and he is left to reciprocate.

It's a matter of pride, Spock knows. Just a way to keep himself from giving into fear, because he's never been the easily daunted sort. Always the 'face your fears' type, who hated space, but went into it anyway, and hated away missions, and went on them anyway, and hated each death under his care as if a part of him went with the patient, but fought it until well past the sensors declared them deceased anyway.

If Spock called him brave, he would deny it, as he did the mention of honor, but it is the word that comes to mind. If, in the bond, the other finds some echo of these thoughts, he makes no mention of it.

Perhaps he's too weak to sense it, or much of anything, anymore.

"I'm an old man, haven't been able to get out of bed in days."

He's arguing again, or reasoning, Spock cannot fathom which, or why, but he does not interrupt, just looks the other over impassively. It is nice, at least, to see him with some fire back in his eyes, that stubbornness and passion that first drew him to, perhaps, one of the most illogical, and absolutely fascinating beings he had ever had the good fortune to meet.

"You had to damn well spoon feed me yesterday, Spock."

"And I would do so now, if you would cease your tirade but for a moment."

That softened something on the doctor's face, and Spock wished it had not - he took his earlier sentiment back. Let him argue, let him bicker and rage, but do not let him soften, do not let that light dim.

"...I'm not hungry, darlin'."

His voice is too soft, and something in Spock's face twitches, a spasm he cannot control, but does not acknowledge - of course he is not hungry, Spock had known hours ago that he would not be, but had made the food anyway, for the sake of routine, for the sake of normality.

"Why did you..." Another falter, a stuttering of breath. "...call it honorable?"

And that isn't what the man wants to ask, but Spock understands it all the same, because he has heard the request before, in words, and in the color of McCoy's tone, of his thoughts, and it very simply reads  _speak to me_ , because the good doctor had always enjoyed his voice, and though Spock would claim it was illogical, he had always understood, because the man's drawl was a thing that would haunt him all his days, in an aching, familiar manner that would shame his family, were they to know.

"Because, Leonard,"  _Leonard_  now, not  _Doctor_ , or any variation thereof, and the man's face softened further, even as he reached out. Spock met him more than halfway, his own movements precise where as the doctor's normally steady hands...shook. "You have lived a good life, a long one by human standards. You have seen the rise and fall of civilizations. You have, in your own, uniquely chaotic and very human manner, helped to shape the universe we live in now. Had you never enlisted in Starfleet, our Captain would never have been our Captain. We would have rushed into battle with Nero, and been wiped out. We never would have voyaged as we have done." He continued, steadily, and McCoy was looking at him, but not quite looking  _at him._ "And had you not been on board, our altercation with Khan," and that name brought a sour taste to his mouth, "would undoubtedly have ended in an even more unsatisfactory manner than it did, to understate the matter immensely."

A steadying breath that he tried to hide, but that had the man's eyes flicking up to him. "You have saved my life, and the lives of many members of our crew on countless occasions, and we all owe you a great debt. I, especially so, because in addition to my continued existence, you have granted me the unspeakably precious gift of remaining by your side through your days."

McCoy parted his lips as if to say something about him being a sap, but no sound escaped, and his face twisted in momentary anxiety, before he quietly managed to rasp, "Spock..." And maybe it was a warning, or an attempt to tell him what he already knew, but longed to hear every day for the rest of his life, but Spock did not know, and would not know, because no further words came - only a pleading look, one for him to continue talking, and he was reminded of the rare occasions in which McCoy would come to him, shaking, in the throes of a lingering nightmare, and ask for him to speak to him, just to speak to him, until he slept.

"And it has been  _my_  honor to spend this time with you, Leonard, and every moment you have allowed me will live with me the rest of my days. And when you go, rest easily knowing that you have gone honorably, and you have gone boldly, and I, when my time comes..."

And he's speaking to himself, just himself, and his own voice wavers, cracks.

"...hope to follow just as elegantly, and meet you with as much joy in our reunion as there is sorrow in our parting,  _ashayam._ "


End file.
